Cupcake Note
by CharydisErlkoernigListeria
Summary: What if the Death Note actually turned people into cupcakes? And what if L were really a hamster? Read on and discover the mystery! May eventually include some homoerotic titillation, IDK.
1. A Tale of Cupcakes!

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"This Cupcake Note is the best! Hahahaha!" Light laughs as he writes down many names in his Cupcake Note. One day he found this Cupcake Note and decided it seemed like a pretty nifty thing to have, and now his whole life was so much better!

"When I take over the world, everyone will be turned into a cupcake! Then no one will be able to challenge me, because they will all be cupcakes!" Light rolls his head back and blasts into another fit of evil laughter. "Isn't that right, Ryuk?"

"Yes, it will be so hilarious, when you do that," says Ryuk. "This is exactly what I hoped would happen when I dropped the Cupcake Note from the Cupcakegami Realm."

"Haha, damn straight! But first I'm turning only the world's deadliest criminals into cupcakes. I have to become Kira first, or else my whole plan is shot to ruin!" Light says in a voice.

"Light, honey, it's time for supper!" a mysterious woman calls up the stairs, "I made your favorite Japanese dish, just special!"

"Mom, I told you, not while I'm on my murder spree! And I already spoiled my appetite with a bag of potato chips!" Light screams back.

"Okay, sweetums! I'm going to leave your Albuterol on the bottom stair in a little baggie! Don't eat too many cookies!"

"I won't be eating any cookies because I'll be turning criminals into cupcakes!" Light chuckles to himself trickily. Suddenly the television flickers to the image of a fancy "L" against a plain white background. A news program about puppy farms had been playing previously.

"Hey, what is going on?" Light says, "I was watching that news program about puppy farms out of the corner of my eye! Everyone at Channel 87 News is getting turned into a cupcake, right now!"

But as Light raises his hand to begin an aggressive writing montage, the screen cuts to a man sitting in a regal office chair at a regal desk. On the desk is a nameplate that says his name, Lind L. Tailor, and behind him is a generic blue flag.

The man begins to speak, "Greetings, citizens of Earth. I am Lind L. Tailor, just as my nameplate here reads-or better known as the secret detective L. I am forcing every television station across the entire planet to simultaneously play this broadcast, so that I can address Kira directly. Unless he is in a remote location out of the range of any television signals, though my superior detective skills suspect that is not the case."

"What is this pure nonsense!" Light yells. He chucks his pen at the screen, and it ricochets back at his face. "Oh, you are so becoming a cupcake now, you idiot fool!" Light finds his pen and grabs the Cupcake Note. "Hehehe, this will teach you never to mess with Kira, El Dumbass" Light says under his breath. He scribbles down the name that is on the nameplate in immaculate penmanship.

"Just forty seconds and the world will know my true power," Light says while eyeing his watch.

"Five, four, three, two, one...," Light counts to himself. Then there is a poof of pink smoke. Where L's hands were just milliseconds ago, there is only a red velvet cupcake topped with a dollop of caramel frosting and purple jimmies.

"Haha, sucker," Light says as he admires the gorgeous cupcake his fast nemesis has become.

This wonderous thing to behold is short-lived as the live broadcast is again replaced with the image of the fancy L. A garbled monster voice speaks through the television.

"Kira, the man you just killed was an inmate on death row. His execution was scheduled for today. As you have probably deduced, you have not turned the real L into a cupcake. I am still alive and very much not a cupcake. If you are truly all powerful, you should have no problem turning me into a cupcake right now." The voice is coming from the television's speakers.

"Grrrrrr..." Light growls through gritted teeth. Who did this L think he was, messing with his global enslavement plans?

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Turn me into a cupcake!" the voice goads him. But Light knows this is impossible. He doesn't have enough information about this wad of human jerk to turn him into a cupcake.

"Stupid Cupcake Note," Light says as he throws the stupid Cupcake Note to the ground and attempts to kick it, but misses because the Cupcake Note is so flat.

"Hey, don't disrespect the Cupcake Note," says Ryuk.

"I'm waiting," the voice continues, "Just as I previously deduced. This message is actually only being broadcast in the Kanto region of Japan. You have been tricked, Kira. I now know your general location and the general extent of your powers. I will find you, and you will be brought to justice."

"Your mom will be brought to justice!" Light yells at the screen before picking up the Cupcake Note from where he had thrown it in his fit of teenage rage, "Then she'll be turned into a cupcake!" Light rolls his head back and blasts into a fit of evil laughter. "You'll all be turned into cupcakes! You may have won this round L, but I will win the war!"

Little did Light know, his arch rival, to whom he had just issued this challenge of wits, was a hamster. meow!

* * *

 **Whew, exciting chapter! I really himmed and hawed over my characterization of Light, but in the end, I think it turned out pretty well! Future of this story: hopefully it'll span all of the original, or at least all of the important points. IDK, Mello and his doofy haircut will probably get cut. Anyway, I think this is a really fresh concept and I want to push it to the max! That's all!**


	2. A Long Way from Home, Pt I

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"So that townie rat-bastard _(no, Light, he's actually a hamster)_ has figured out Kira is a student already, eh?" Light mutters as he scrolls through an ultra-top-secret police report, "Heh, we'll see who the real Sherlock is after my next spree. Ryuk, what are the full extent of the Cupcake Note's powers?"

"No," answers Ryuk.

Light smirks. "I figured you'd say that, so I'm prepared to find out for myself. A series of tests are incorporated into my next set of killings, all of which will have times preset in the Cupcake Note for when I'm at school. Hehe, that'll throw the buck-faced hound off my scent _(Naw, still a hamster)_."

"Pretty clever," says Ryuk.

"Yeah, I know," says Light.

"Light, your review class starts in twenty minutes! You don't want to be late, punkin'!" a voice now firmly established to be that of Light's mother yells up the stairs.

"I know that, Mom! I know that!" Light shrieks.

"Just making sure, sugarlumps! And reminding you to wash to help with your pink eye!"

"Well, stop doing that! Stop it! Don't like it!" Light yells back, though he's beginning to whine like a pouting child.

"Say Light, what are you going to do with the Cupcake Note while you're at your review class?" asks Ryuk.

"I'm glad you went ahead and assumed I would be leaving the Cupcake Note at home instead of taking it with me as per usual. It segues nicely into my next stroke of geniousity," answers Light. "This afternoon, using a bunch of crap I covertly stole from school, I built an IED that is triggered when this drawer," he gestures, "is pulled open without first inserting the plastic ink tube from a pen into a hole I drilled into the bottom. That way, anyone who goes snooping will be blown to flesh chunks before it can find the Cupcake Note. Foolproof."

"That sounds a little dangerous, Light," says Ryuk.

"Not for me. I have a goddamn golden touch when it comes to IEDs. Besides, it would be far more dangerous to leave the Cupcake Note laying around unprotected."

"Whatever you say," says Ryuk.

"Don't use that tone with me, Ryuk. From now on, you are only permitted to bask in my cunning – if you want any more apples, that is."

"You know, most humans would be wary of talking to a Shinigami like that. I like your style, kid."

"Most people do," says Light. He stands and grabs his briefcase and cloak. "Come on, my review class starts in fifteen minutes, and it looks like I'm already going to be late. Good for nothing mother."

* * *

Light's shoes clack loudly on the asphalt as he walks towards his street, even though he is wearing soft heeled shoes. Overcast clouds and liberally spaced streetlamps obscure all but the closest of his surroundings. Ryuk lingers a few meters behind on lazily flapping wings. Suddenly, he jerks forward.

"You are aware that in most circumstances I'd gladly watch you plunge into a horrible doom of your own making, Light, but tonight I'm feeling generous," Ryuk whispers next to Light's ear, "A man's been tailing you ever since we left Wacky World,"

Light stops dead in his tracks. A faint scuffle also stops behind him, a few seconds too slow.

"Hmmm, L, you whorish guttersnipe. Looks like you've learned from my tests as well," he says under his breath. For the past week Light had been writing a range of tasks for the criminals to perform before they died to figure out far he could push the Cupcake Note. He had also begun writing specific times of death for each killing-one at five minutes past the hour, every hour. That last part was just to screw with L, the whorish guttersnipe.

Light resumes walking. "Well? That's all you're going to do?" asks Ryuk. He is ignored. "Fine, ignore me, but don't say I didn't give you any heads up."

* * *

Light reaches for the knob on the door to his room, but abruptly stops, hand suspended in hesitation.

"What is it?" asks Ryuk. Light does not respond. Instead, he turns to go back down the stairs and heads for the front door. On his way out he grabs the nearest object in range, which happens to be an over-stuffed cardstock folder with "Sayu's Very First Important Science Project!" scribbled on the front. Light walks with the item to the edge of the Yagami lawn, then tosses it in a trashcan waiting for next-morning pick-up.

"I needed a discreet excuse to go outside," he explains himself. "L, that churlish piece of girl hair, has the whole house bugged."

"What? How do you know that?"

"You recall the IED I rigged to my desk drawer to keep the Cupcake Note from detection while in the house? Well, I have a bunch of checks on my door ten times more intricately insane that I set-up every time I leave home to make sure no one goes into my room. All of them have been violated. Someone has been in my sacred space, Ryuk."

"How are you so sure it's not your mother or sister?"

"Did I not emphasize how insanely intricate these checks are, Ryuk? I made a point to say that they are ten times more paranoid than wiring explosives to my desk. I am pretty damn sure that it was not my mother or sister. No, it was no one in my family. L is behind this. And I know for certain the thing that he was behind, was putting wiretaps and cameras in every room in our house and sending someone to track me. He must have deduced that Kira is someone on or close to someone on the task force. I forget if I mentioned this, but my father is the police chief and head of the Kira task force. Naturally, the entire Yagami family is being investigated by L. That dumb cube of compacted ocean litter."

"Out of a world population of 6.5 billion people, L has managed to track you down in two and half weeks. That's pretty impressive. Or you've been careless," says Ryuk.

"Hahaha, oh Ryuk, L will never win. In fact I'm glad he's found me. The sooner he finds me, the sooner I clear my name. Without any knowledge of the Cupcake Note, there's no way L will have the evidence to prove that I'm Kira. Let the Norwegian jumping squirrel _(no matter how you may try, Light, he'll never be anything but a hamster)_ come at me." With that, Light drops the lid back on the trash can with a _bang_ and walks back towards the house, blasting into a silent fit of laughter as he passes through the front doorway **.**

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 **This chapter was tough. A lot of emotional stuff. I had to watch so much MASH to get through it, lol. The next chapter will be much more light-hearted. Trust.**


	3. The Most Slappable Face in the World

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"Denise Chuch...dolphin nose. Kaori Nuggets...drowned rat face. Tipfo Ballatai...the popular clique's grunt. What use is incontestable popularity if no one in this goddamned town is worthy of being my puppet? We will be _in public_ , for Christian Allusion's sake," Light whines as he scrolls through his cellular flip-phone. "What pathetic excuses for foreheads, all of them! Can't I just find a girl with an acceptably high hairline? I need some forehead, Ryuk!"

"That girl who you were giggling with before English class yesterday had a pretty massive forehead."

"Yuri Dtflgui;lm,bhg? Her father does own three Comp USA franchises in Tokyo alone. Mildly well-off family, the Dtfgui;lm,bhg's...She is acceptable. Sharp suggestion, Ryuk."

"Thanks, Light. That means so much, coming from you."

At that, Light swivels his chair to face Ryuk, glaring at him with the stone cold eyes of Steve Austin. "Kira never giggles with another human, Ryuk. He giggles alone, or others may giggle in his presence. It is never communal."

The Shinigami nods ruefully.

"Now," Light says as he clicks his pen over an open Cupcake Note, his regular demeanor returned, "I've got a strategic plot to set-up that would make Rube Goldberg stab himself through the eye with a toothbrush shiv that was struck by a hammer suspended on a fulcrum so as to jerk forward when landed upon by a ball on top of a tower of toilet paper tubes which will fall when an RC Hummer rams the tube tower after the final domino in an eighty-eight domino, domino chain flips the ON switch for the RC Hummer, which all begins when a trained lab rat sets off the domino chain." He then blasts into a fit of evil laughter.

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"I was so excited when you called! I haven't been to SpaceLand since I was a kid!" chirps Yuri Dtflgui;lm,bhg as she and Light walk towards the nearest bus stop. Light had never noticed before how much she looked like a bird. It was really quite distracting. Every time she opened her mouth, he had to fight the instinct to shoo her with a back-handed palm. Despite her magnificently large forehead, this part of the strategic plot was not going as strategically plotted.

"Haha, I should hope you're excited," coos Light, wrapping a lithe, yet powerful arm around his date's shoulders while they share an intense stare. Even though the outing with Yuri was merely a cover-up for his real goal-catching the spy that L the Gastric Dragon _(silly Light, dragons don't even exist anymore!)_ had sent to follow him- Light could not turn off his charming, manipulative nature. It was a key asset of his incontestable popularity.

"Tweet tweet! Tweet! Twee-twee-tweet!" tweets Yuri.

"Hahaha, exactly," Light responds, more on autopilot than genuinely listening to the female. He needed to focus now. The pawn of his gutter trash enemy was in the perimeter, and Light _would_ have the upper hand by the end of their encounter.

Yuri continues to chatter as Light indiscriminately laughs to keep her sated while giving his true attention to his watch.

 _"Just another minute..."_

Right on cue the bus rolls over a hill, about 500 feet out. Both students ready their passes. No one else is at the bus stop with them.

 _"Perfect. I'll recognize you immediately, you pathetic servant of L, that regurgitated Disney Channel Original Movie (D-COM)."_

After the bus comes to a stop, Light and Yuri board and head towards a seat at the back. Light coolly resists looking over his shoulder to see if his stalker has also boarded. As they sit down, he catches glimpse of a tall man in a long jacket paying his fare at the front. The man had been nowhere in sight when the bus arrived. Light had found L's spy. With a jerk, the bus begins to move again, and the man turns to take a seat. That's when Light sees the most slappable face he had ever seen, and would ever saw. The man exuded incompetence, but also the douchey self-confidence of a man never made to face his own mediocrity. There were many things Light Yagami knew for certain in his short life _(Haha, spoilers!)_ , but what he knew surest of all was this: he wanted to kill this goddamn doofus.

And kill him he would. First, however, he needed a name.

As expected, the man takes a seat behind Light and Yuri. The triad sit in silence until the next stop, where almost a third of the passengers void the bus, and there are no new arrivals. It's suddenly quiet when when a man waving a gun charges onto the bus.

"This here's a good ol'-fashioned bus-jackin', ya' hear now?" the man addresses the People of the Bus while still frantically waving his gun. He sounds heavily intoxicated. "You there!" he points the gun at the driver, "This bus is en route to SpaceLand, the mightiest of all the Lands! Tell 'em, the folks who run the SpaceLand, call 'em on the phone, and tell 'em sumthin', which is to get money. To gimme to me. I need it. It is for a back alley oper-eration fer the cat of a friend of me. Do it now, or yer head is on this windows!"

Light is disappointed in the poor grammar of the criminal he had specially chosen to carry out the most vital part of his strategic plot. He had really hoped for a proper, menacing bus-jacking. He would have to make do with what he had.

"Yuri, if it comes down to it, I'm going to rush this asshole and introduce him to the Pain Twins, my fists. Don't try and stop me," Light conspicuously loud-whispers to his date.

"Hold on, kid," the doofus behind Light speaks. Light's skin crawls at the sound of his douchey voice. It was douchier than he ever could have imagined. "Let me handle this."

"And why should I trust you?" Light sneers, "I read a lot about bus-jackings and other various public transport-jackings in my spare time, and often the thieves work in pairs. How do I know you're not butt-boy here's accomplice?"

The doofus sighs. "I'm under no circumstances supposed to reveal my position in the FBI, but I guess under these circumstances, I'm forced to." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small, leather booklet, and hands it to Light. It opens to an ID badge with "FBI" written in bold letters. Underneath is the doofus's picture and his name: Raye Penber. What a dumbass name. Light pretends to check out the document for a believable length of time, then hands it back to Raye Penber with a nod.

 _"It's all going according to the strategic plot! Raye Penber, you've made your last mistake. Your first was being born. Hehehe, and L, I thought you were just a filthy speck of Whoville on a clover, but you've got the FBI doing your bidding? Maybe you are a worthy foe after all. Though it would make a lot more sense if it were the CIA...whatever, even genius detectives can't be expected to know the the intricacies of the United States intelligence agencies._

Light and Raye Penber's chatter attracts the attention of the psycho with the gun. "You! Back in thur! With the talkin'! No! Don't do it!" He storms to the back of the bus, gun waving like a flag in the wind. A scrap of paper falls from Light's pocket just as the bus-jacker approaches.

"Eh, was' this?" he slurs while picking-up the paper, "A secret meeting of m' mother and her dead cat? No! It won' happen eva'!" His eyes disjointedly glaze over the message, a simple date, time, and meeting spot, and after a long minute he throws it back at Light's face. "Monkey she-nin-e-gans, if ya' eva' have it seen!" he screams to no one in particular.

"Is it just me, or is he getting more and more insensible by the minute?" Raye Penber mutters. Light does not respond, because he knows he has nothing nice to say when it comes to Raye Penber's douchey voice.

Raye Penber's douchey voice is, however, answered by the bus-jacker's shriek. "Guhhhhh! It's the dead cat!"

It is not, in fact, the dead cat. It is merely Ryuk, who most of us had quite frankly forgotten was present until this point. The note Light dropped was actually a scrap of the Cupcake Note, and when the bus-jacker touched it, he gained the terrifying ability to see Light's Shinigami. This was all part of the strategic plot.

"Cap'em, let me off this ship! I do not wanna ride the mystrey!" the bus-jacker yells and staggers to the front of the bus, his gun hand still rollicking free as the wind. The driver slams the brakes to a halt and opens the door, seizing the opportunity to be rid of the obnoxious bus-jacker. The still-screaming man practically tumbles down the stairs and rushes out into traffic, where, in a cloud of electric green smoke, his body morphs into a scrumptious dark chocolate cupcake topped with pink icing and a plastic ghost ring. The newly formed cupcake is instantly smushed under the tire of an oncoming car, before anyone was able to enjoy it.

The People of the Bus gasp all at once.

"What the hell just happened?" asks Raye Penber, "What made him suddenly go all Looney Tunes? Something here doesn't add up."

But it all added up for Light Yagami. His strategic plot had gone off without a single hitch. He had the name of the FBI agent L, ever the dumpy knock-off Barbie, had sent to investigate him. He was free to rid himself of that menace whenever the time was right. But now he knew L was in league with the FBI, which meant there were agents crawling all over Tokyo. He couldn't have that, and with Raye Penber around, he wouldn't have to. Light began forming another strategic plot just as soon as the previous one had been fulfilled. This time he would hit L with a blow so hard, it'd knock his gingivitis stricken teeth out. With that, Light blasts into an internal fit of evil laughter.

* * *

 **Aw man, this one took me awhile. It really wasn't my fault, though, lol. My bestie Leondra and I were playing this game with some of my less important friends called "Shit for Brains." It's where you sit in a circle and everyone has to do something someone with shit for brains would do. So when it was my turn, I had to hold anti-freeze in my mouth for 90 seconds. Leondra was doing her bear impressions while I had the anti-freeze in my mouth, so I started cracking up and swallowed like half of it, lol. So I had to go to the ER and stuff and then I didn't feel like doing anything afterwards because everyone was pampering me like a royal cat. But it's time to get back to work, lol. Anyways, I need a break from writing Raye Penber's dialogue, so next chappie is probably going to introduce L and the task force. That's all!**


	4. Light Yagami's Glorious YouTube Comment

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"Heh, these scum of the Internet have all downvoted my glorious YouTube comment. In what bumfuck universe is saying Russians don't like soy milk offensive? Ryuk, I cannot enslave this world fast enough. _Sigh_." Light crosses his arms behind his head as he leans back in his custom-fitted, velvet-upholstered office chair, a look of disdain with the entirety of humanity upon his delicate face.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so confident, Light. L's already got people tracking your movements, and you haven't even had the Cupcake Note for two months. You wouldn't want to risk jinxing yourself now," Ryuk answers his daintily-featured master as he levitates somewhere in his general vicinity. "Say, Light, what are you planning to do about that Raye Penber goon that tailed us a few nights ago?"

Light blasts into a fit of laughter, nubile lips curling into a laugh face. "Oh, the panther has just begun to toy with his meal, Ryuk. Raye Penber made his last mistake the day he took on Kira. His first mistake was being born at all." Light blasts into another fit of laughter as he swivels his chair to face the Cupcake Note; however, he puts too much force into the spin and bangs his knee against the side of his desk, cursing profusely as anger darkens his porcelain brow.

* * *

During rush hour in a bustling subway station, Light stands aside from the crowd, leaning into a small crevasse in the wall. He is incognito today and looks quite the picture of aloof in his faded pink jacket. His head is bowed and his hood is pulled down across his eyes to obscure his distractingly angelic face.

"So are you going to actually do anything down here, Light?" asks Ryuk, invisibly present by his master's side. "This morning you said I'd see 'a blood bath bigger than the Manson murders wrapped in an Ashlee Simpson concert.' It's unlike you not to deliver." Light ignores his blathering Shinigami. "Aw, come on, no one would spare half a glance for a kid muttering to himself in a subway station, especially with that jacket hiding your lithe, boyish figure. Talk to me, Light." Light remains silent, but pushes off the wall and begins integrating himself into the crowd. It is soon evident he is following a man in a gray trench coat - a particular man with deliberately mussed hair, cold eyes of master-race-blue, and a face so punchable it would drive saints to violence: Raye fucking Penber.

"Kippy, Kippy, listen, no, listen. I didn't move to the other side because that guy was black. There was a car coming and I was moving to the side out of politeness. Maybe some of us respect the integrity of parking lots, Kippy!" Raye fucking Penber loudly speaks into his cellphone, like those parents who don't understand that the receiver on their phones is mere centimeters from their mouths, and therefore they can speak below normal conversational volume instead of alerting the entire goddamn household that the pumpkins at the patch are _criminally_ overpriced and that Debrah simply must join this organized effort of consumer purchasing power if it is going to have any effect _at all_ on the those price-inflating pumpkin barons.

As they begin approaching the station's shops, Light closes the gap between them.

"Don't turn turn around," he commands Raye Penber, careful to keep his voice to a husky whisper. Raye Penber comes to halt and starts to turn his head - he is very ungood at following even the most basic of instructions. "I said don't turn around!" Light seethes through his florescent white teeth, "If you value your pathetic existence, you'll keep your eyes forward and do as I say." Threats seem to reach Raye Penber's Frankenstein brain much better than kind, gentle, loving demands, and he snaps his head back forward.

"Who are you? What do you want?" asks Raye Penber. He is stopped in front of a coffee shop called "Fun Coffee!" Next to the name is a logo of a sprinting doughnut drizzled with pink icing, carrying a red flag in each hand and sporting a matching red cape. Just outside the entrance a chalkboard easel advertises the shop's kookily named menu items, such as "Hazelnutz Fappuccino," "Fapple Sinnamon Muffinz" and "Low-Cal Faple Syrup Doughnut."

"Doughnuts," Light says at last, careful to keep his voice to a husky whisper, "It should have been cupcakes. It always should have been cupcakes. These fools will rue the day." Light clears his throat and continues, "Do you see that turd with legs over there sweeping?" Raye Penber gives a hesitant nod. "His name is Dartho Klockingworth. He's been tried for rape or sexual assault five times. Did you hear me, pig fucker? Five goddamn times!" Light motions with his right hand like he's thrusting an invisible cocked gun. It's an instinctual reaction when you're saying such goddamn cool lines. It is also odd, as Light is notably left-handed. "He's been acquitted every time," Light finishes, voice dropping to convey his dismay.

"Oh," Raye Penber says, warbling, "Well that's...that's just a damn shame. That 's just...it's a damn shame and it shouldn't happen. I'll have my guys talk to Japan's guys, and then I think we can get this mess all sorted out."

"You won't do a goddamn thing, Raye "Incompetent FBI Agent" Penber!" Light rages, angry, but careful to keep his voice to a husky whisper. He then smiles to himself, reveling two rows of chompers so straight, you couldn't fit a piece of floss between them. "Kira has already taken the situation into his own hands."

Before the cogs in Raye Penber's bucket-sized head can begin to turn, a sudden blast of pink smog cloaks the figure of Dartho Klockingworth, alleged serial rapist. He does not re-appear as the smog begins to dissipate – where he once swept, only a cupcake remains. A jumbo-sized cupcake, in fact, plain yellow cake, but with a hole bored through the center so as it fill it with scrumptious strawberry jam. All in all, a very tasty looking treat.

The People of the Subway Station begin to shriek and shout, and one child makes a lunge for the newly formed cupcake before being grabbed by his mother. Light leans forward and whispers huskily into Raye Penber's ear, "I am Kira."

"What...no...how...impossible...cannot...please...I have...I must, I need...see ma' family...woman I engaged to...crisp autumn day...last _Game of Thrones_ book...return of the McRib...blufo wahhfo waa," Raye Penber blubbers, increasingly less intelligible. Light allows Raye Penber to flounder as he internally blasts into a silent fit of laughter. After the moment as been sufficiently savored, Light pulls a manila envelope out of his jacket and brushes it against the back of Raye Penber's hand.

"You will take this envelope. Inside it contains a transceiver..."

"Whaa...? Like a big radio thingy, or..." Raye Penber clasps the envelope from Light's hand and reaches inside, pulling out the mysterious transceiver. "Oh, you mean a walkie-talkie. Ok, got it. Just confused by your terminology."

"Kira does not use such baby garble! You will refer it as a transceiver and _only_ a transceiver, or your precious fiancée gets the _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ treatment. And I'll also kill that breast-feeding woman over there, so you'll know I actually did it. _Ahem_. I continue, the envelope also contains four sheets, each with twelve blank slots. Using your laptop, you will pull up the files containing the names of all agents dispatched to Japan in regards to the Kira case, and you will write down each name after a close examination of the agent's picture. You will do this..."

"I don't have access to that kind of information," Raye Penber interrupts. Light grits his teeth at his hostage's impropriety. This unmannered "sometimes y" cannot die fast enough.

"Oh, I just transformed a man into a cupcake on site, know your name and who your loved ones are, and am holding you captive in front of hundreds of people, yet I've been foiled all by this detail I did not even consider. Does this sound about right to you, Raye Penber? Does that make a modicum of sense to you, Raye Penber? _I don't have access to that kind of information_ ," Light mocks in a mocking tone of voice, "Why don't you save the world some trouble and hang a big sign around your neck that says, 'Too Stupid to Function'!"

"I'm sorry..." Raye Penber responds, shaking. "It was just..."

"Save it for the Japanese equivalent to Jesus, Penber. Now, back to me and my needs. Because you're helplessly transfixed on the classified information issue, I'll tell you this ahead of time: you will write the name of your superior for the Kira case in the upper left-hand corner of the first sheet. When you refresh your e-mail there will be a message from your superior containing all the necessary files as attachments. You will use them to complete the first instruction. However, all this must be done aboard the train. You will board the southbound Yellow Circle line, second car from the front. You must sit in the seat closest to the door. If it is occupied, sit in it anyway. The occupant will eventually vacate the seat. Exactly two minutes into your trip, begin your work. And under no circumstances are you to look around or attempt to ascertain my identity in any capacity. I'll know if you're fucking around on me, boy."

"Understood," affirms Raye Penber, surprisingly confident for such a mess of a human being. "Except, this station doesn't offer any WiFi and we're underground and all, so I can't..."

"That sounds like a _you_ problem, Raye Penber. Now get your ass on that train and turn on your goddamn transceiver," Light instructs as he falls back into the crowd, disappearing like a raven into the mist.

Get his ass onto the train he does. Raye Penber diligently completes his tasks as Light covertly oversees him from the adjoining car.

"You trust him to actually do it?" Ryuk breaks the silence.

"Haha, Ryuk, that's hilarious. Classic. I needed to laugh today. I hate always having to be the bad guy."

"He must be pretty crafty to have gotten into the FBI. What's stopping him from sending out a warning about you to the entire network?"

"Please, Ryuk, I had him eating out of my hand like a bloated hen. He's probably having an internal monologue right now about how flawless I am. He's too afraid to try anything. Haha, regard for other people is such a weakness. That's what makes us Gods of Death so invincible, right Ryuk?" Before his Shinigami can respond, Light glances Raye Penber shutting his laptop and sliding the papers back into the envelope. He raises his own transceiver to his mouth. "Have you got all the names? How many?"

A muffled shuffling sound comes from the other end, followed by a squawk Light eventually recognizes to be Raye Penber's voice. "Twelve in all, including my supervisor. It went exactly as you said it would."

"Good, good, excellent," Light whispers into the transceiver using a deep husk. "We're almost done here. Leave the envelope on the top shelf of the train. You must ride the train until you're absolutely certain you can depart without anyone noticing you've left something behind."

And so the odd gang of companions wait silently for sufficient time to pass. At last the train slows to a halt, and Raye Penber stands to leave. Light scribbles something on a scrap of paper pressed against his thigh and moves into the next car. He approaches the door just after the FBI agent has exited and stares out. As if struck by premonition, Raye Penber slowly turns around. His eyes dilate with recognition.

"It's you, the kid I was..." But Raye "Scamper" Penber never gets to finish his last, douchey sentence – in an instant he's swallowed by a pink smog that leaves nothing behind but a dull gray cupcake, bare but for the candle fashioned into the shape of the number five. It is unlit.

"Good-bye, Raye Penber."

* * *

The Taskforce is conspicuously gathered in front of a luxury hotel at the south end of downtown Tokyo, their bodies forming a ring of humans.

Chief Soichiro Yagami is the first to speak. "Boy, this winter weather really set in. Wish we'd thought to wear coats over our suit jackets."

Senior Officer Shuichi Aizawa folds his arms across his chest and adds, "Yeah, first time this season it's been below freezing." Officer Kanzo Mogi nods in agreement.

"Do you guys think I have a Resting Troll Face?" Officer Hideki Ide abruptly cuts in. "My brother-in-law told me my natural expression makes me look like an angry bridge troll, and now whenever I look in the mirror I can't unsee it. Am I just paranoid?"

"I wouldn't say you look like a bridge troll, Ide. That's just silly. There is something about your eyebrows, though, that makes your whole face look a little...harsh?" Chief Yagami tries to keep his critique gentle, but truthful. People need to know what their faces look like to other people.

"I agree with Chief. First time I saw you, I thought, 'Wow, that guys must be really pissed. Better not tick him off.' But then the next couple times we met your face was exactly the same, so I figured out that is how it always looks like," says Officer Dan Ukita, the team member with the short fuse who _speaks his goddamn mind_.

The youngest member of the Taskforce, Officer Touta Matsuda, laughs and chimes in, "Yes, I remember the first time I met Ide I thought he was a tax account. I don't know why, I just thought that."

"That's nice, Matsuda," Chief Yagami brushes off the young idiot. "Really, I think if you raised your eyebrows by just a centimeter, it would make your face much more approachable," he offers Ide.

"Like this?" Ide arches his eyebrows to their full extent. Now he just looks deranged.

"Hmm, you just don't look you. Best keep with the look we all know and have come to tolerate," replies Chief Yagami. The group collective mummer their agreement. No one ever wants to see that face from Ide again.

"So what's up with that Watari clown?" Aizawa says after a pensive silence.

"Aizawa, that man fought in the Second Gojira Rising! Respect your elders!" the chief reprimands his subordinate. "Though I could do without the trench coat and that, I don't know, fisherman's hat? What style hat is that? I was never any good at identifying hats."

"I believe they call it a 'wide brim hat,' sir," says Mogi.

"Really? I thought wide brim hats had uncurved brims. Isn't his brim curved? Anyway, regardless, tilting it over his eyes and pulling up his coat collar aren't concealing his person very well. Like, we could make out enough of his face to make a positive ID if any of us actually cared to. He should've just come in wearing one of those little masquerade masks for all the good his disguise does him."

"Yeah, one of us should 'accidentally' knock his hat off next time," jokes Ukita. It earns a modest laugh from the group collective.

Chief Yagami glances down at his watch. "Gentlemen, the hour is almost upon us. As instructed, we will ascend in pairs with each entering a half-hour apart. Once we are all assembled at the designated location, we will walk together to Room 916. L is waiting for us there."

The chief himself is part of the first team to enter the hotel. He chooses Matsuda for his partner, so as not to inflict him on any of the other Taskforce members. Their shoes clack loudly on the marble floor of the lobby as they make their way to the elevator. They decline to board until finally they are the only people waiting. As Chief Yagami searches for the button for the seventh floor, an elderly man carrying a large black bag comes hobbling towards their elevator. Yagami quickly finds the "close doors" button. Secret liaisons are secret liaisons – they have to remain secret.

The elevator begins to accelerate, and the police chief suddenly feels a pang of dread in his gut. Even Matsuda has been unusually silent. Chief Yagami is finally going to meet the world-renowned recluse, L. He'd lost almost his entire staff to the Kira case - and half his sanity, too. For the past week he had been performing a full department's worth of work with a skeleton crew of six officers, only half of whom were earnestly qualified for the magnitude of the case. L was his Hail Japanese Mary. Should he fail, the chief knew he was as dead as the inmates in his case files.

* * *

"Say Light, remind me again of how this all worked out?" Ryuk asks of the golden haired Adonis he follows around all day, everyday.

"Oh, it's all very simple, really," Light smirks his perfect mouth as he twirls his monogrammed Faber Castell fountain pen (that's a really respectable brand, by the way). "See, my experiments with the Cupcake Note taught me that you can write down a time and cause of cupcakization, add a name later, and the command will still be executed. Those pages Raye Penber wrote on were taken directly from the Cupcake Note. Under the slot for Raye Penber's superior's name, I wrote that before he was transformed, he would email all of his agents the files containing all agents' personal information. This way no one can pinpoint Raye Penber as my pawn. By studying the agents faces as he was writing on pieces of the Cupcake Note, that boob sealed his own colleagues' fate himself. Ryuk, my brilliance often frightens me."

"Whatever you say, Light. You're completely sure you didn't leave any trail for L to follow?" asks Ryuk.

"Ha, that condemned public sex dungeon couldn't match me if he tried. Bring it on, L. You're more pathetic than a high school production of _Cats_." On that note Light blasts into a fit of laughter.

* * *

 **Thank you for all the glowing reviews last chapter! It took me almost a week to go through them all, lol!**

 **Sweet Renaissance faire orgy, this chapter is way off schedule. Which toooooootally sux, because it is in no way my fault. See, this rhymes-with-snitch Leondra, my FORMER bestie, decided she wanted to have one of those Christmas cookie exchange parties, like, the week after Thanksgiving. Me being her best friend since kindergarten and all, she asked me to address and HAND EMBOSS all of her ugly little invitations. Plus, I had to help her set-up the day of. This isn't even including the TEN batches of cookies I had to make to stuff bags for the FORTY people Leondra's unclassed ass invited to a frillin' party in a frillin' tent. That's right, a party outside, under a flimsy plastic tent, at the beginning of DECEMBER. It was like a big outdoor party tent, not a camping tent or whatever, and Leondra was all, "Oh, it won't be too cold because we're gonna have a bunch of dumbass propane patio heaters that are all fancy and shit because my family has a bunch of fancy shit that I like to shove in my awesome best friend's face whenever the opportunity presents itself because I am an unapologetic jerkface." Whatever, what I'm really emphasizing here is this: everything about this party was SUPER dumb from the get-go.**

 **Fast-forward to the day of the party. It's a Saturday. That morning I go to Leondra's house and lug a bunch of heavy collapsible tables around the over-manicured grass patch she calls a backyard. Then I have to help her tape down a bunch of ugly tablecloths onto the tables I just spent, like, half my life moving, because there's really strong winds. Probably at least 100 mph or something. I don't know, I'm not a dork who cares about shit like weather science.**

 **Finally, I get home and it's like noon. See, my life is usually really hectic because I'm a cool kid who does cool shit, so I had absolutely no time to bake any cookies until that exact moment right then. The party starts at 5:00, and it's customary that the BFF be at least one of the first three guests to arrive, so I'm in a bit of a conundrum time-wise. But I'm playing it cool, just like, "Well, I'll just bake the cookies at 600° so each batch only takes like five minutes. Easy." But then my killjoy father goes, "Duhhh, that's not how heat transfer works, you'll just burn everything, guh guh guh, I'm a nerd." Fine, science bitch. I guess I'll just have to get creative. So I get creative: I drive to Sam's Club. Don't judge me - I know half of y'all who claim to cook "from scratch" use a bottle of Prego in there somewhere. Anyway, store-bought shit usually tastes better. Sorry, Mumsy, it's the gospel truth.**

 **My own impending lies aren't an issue for me at this point; however, what is an issue is the impending lies of other people. I know damn well most of the other attendees at this party don't want to spend their youth slaving away over a stupid cookie exchange, either, so probably at least, like, a quarter of them will also buy the cookies they bring. And it will be an absolute DISASTER if I bring the exact same cookies as someone else. I need a guarantee that the cookies I pick no one else will have chosen. Suddenly, I am struck by genius. "Twinkies, but disguised as not-Twinkies!" See, everyone secretly loves the spongy, creme-filled taste of Twinkies, even though it's socially frowned upon to admit it. "If I cover the Twinkies in a thick layer of canned frosting, then decorate the tops with candy, they'll look like homemade creations AND everyone will love them!" So I race to the snack cake aisle and put, like, four 24-packs of Twinkies in my cart, then hurry to the baking section to get a whole shitload of chocolate frosting.**

 **What I haven't mentioned is that it was 4:30 by the time I actually left for Sam's. After I got home from my grunt work at Leondra's, I just wanted to check my Sims real quick before I wasted the rest of the day on poopy cookies, but then ended up playing for, like, four hours (I had this really salacious storyline going on with my family where the mom was cheating with the maid, the gardener, and the repairman! And she got pregnant! With the gardener's baby! But then the maid caught her with the repairman, and so now both affairs are shot to hell. Without three concurrent affairs, the story really lost its spark). So when I finally head to the candy wing, I'm not even thinking, just doing. I ended up with, like, five boxes of Jujubes and seven king size bags of Skittles, which turned out to be specialty mint-flavored Skittles, an abomination against God that I did not notice until I had already checked-out.**

 **There's no time for me to stop by home before I head to Leondra's – I have to assemble my homemade Twinkie bombs in the Sam's Club parking lot. Only after I've ripped open my first Twinkie do I realize that I don't actually have any cutlery to spread the frosting on the Twinkies. "Well old gal," I think to myself, "your finger will just have to suffice." I pop the lid off a can of frosting and get to work. The frosting process is going inhumanly fast when I run out of room on top of the Twinkie box I'm using as a holding rack. "Goddmanit, I don't have any bags to put these things in," I realize. The Sam's Club check-out lines are a nightmare, so the stockpile of Target bags in my trunk starts looking like the best gift bag option. It only takes me ten minutes to frost and decorate the remaining Twinkies. The plan is to gift two scrumptious Twinkie bombs per partygoer, and by the grace of God, I have just enough Target bags to fill a bag for each person. Lady Luck is looking like she's on my side.**

 **So I'm at the party, and this annoying girl Suzy Quezeil is insisting on talking to me. Other than that, everybody's grooving, and I'm actually having a good time. Of course, shit's gotta go down just then. Leondra comes over to me, and she's making this scrunched-up little pug face that I have told her a million times gets on my last damn nerve. "Cel, can I ruin the small semblance of peace you've earned after a long day of acting like my personal servant and talk you alone?" So then she drags me into the house. I'm slightly nervous, but for the most part relieved that someone freed me from Suzy Quezeil. "What the hell is this?" She's holding one of my cookie bags. "Someone actually asked if it was dog shit!" It had not occurred to me until this point that two oblong, brown things smearing all over the inside of a plastic Target bag did, in fact, look quite a bit like dog shit. If I ditched the candy, my Twinkie bombs could actually make great novelty desserts! "I'm so frillin' sick of you pulling shit like this! You knew this was important to me, blah, blah, blah, blah, other self-obsessed jib jab." My go-to answer for other people's indignation is my own indignation at twice the volume, so I start yelling at Leondra right back. Somehow it ends up with her crying and locking herself in her room, and so now I have all this guilt that's going to ruin the rest of my night. So I just leave and go get high on whippets with some stoner kid I went to Bible camp with as a youngling.**

 **It was non-stop drama for a couple months, and I was too upset to write. Things started to blow over when Leondra got me an iPhone for Easter, but the damage was done — I was so drained creatively from my screenplay _Hell Church_ that I couldn't even think of funny names for my Sims. Or maybe I just forgot this thing existed, whatever, it's irrelevant. **

**Anyway, for my recent birthday Leondra got me some first edition poetry collection that's like, twelve billion years old, so I'm feeling inspired again. I'll update on Tuesdays, starting today, unless I have to go on hiatus again because something really pissed me off. It's technically Wednesday now, but whatever, I polished most of this shit on Tuesday. The way I count days works like in** ** _Gremlins_** **anyway.**

 **Thanks for reading! XoXo, GossipGirl. I really need a cooler sign-off. Shoot me your ideas, friends!**


	5. Exceptional Knockers

**Placeholders in the morning, Placeholders in the evening, Placeholders with no warning, Placeholders wrote by Steve King ( _The Tommyknockers)_!**

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"OK, you can do this. You've been through so much worse before. Come on, who's the big chief again? That's right, you're the big chief, and you're one bad motherfucker. One bad motherfucker with a _badge_ and jurisdiction over all of Japan's police forces. Alright, maybe that last one was an exaggeration, but, hey, you put your pants on today both legs at the same time. You are an unstoppable force of nature no lone man can weather." Outside the door of the world renowned super sleuth L's hotel room, Chief Yagami mumbles to himself as he bounces in place like a boxer circling his opponent. The rest of his team stare at their shoes and pretend they are not witnessing this pinnacle of human embarrassment.

At last the chief manages to calm his ass. He straightens his suit, turns to his Taskforce, and says, "Well, gentlemen, I believe we've all firmly amped ourselves up for this life-changing interaction with another human. Have you drawn straws to determine the Designated Knocker?"

"We would have, if someone had remembered to make the straws different lengths," spits Aizawa, giving Matsuda the evil eye.

"I thought we were just handing out straws!" Matsuda defends himself.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, this is no time to bicker about petty affairs. Since no one has been legally designated Designated Knocker, I will do the knocking," says Chief Yagami as he steps up the hotel room door, pulling back his shoulders and pushing out his neck. With a deep inhalation he poises a clenched fist adjacent to the door and delivers three perfect raps, all spaced evenly apart. Chief Yagami had become an excellent knocker after so many years of knocking on doors.

His exceptional _knocks_ are met with silence. The Taskforce all shift nervously as they wait for a response. Then there is a _clicking_ coming from the other side of the door. It is most likely a person on the other side trying to open the door.

The door opens only a crack to partially reveal a sunken-in set of peepers. The drowsy orbs flit across the faces of the Taskforce for an uncomfortable amount of time, until finally the owner of the vision utensils opens the door completely. A lanky creature stands before the officers, shaggy and with ill-fitting clothes. He steps back a few paces as if to gesture them in. They follow the social cue accordingly.

"Thank you for coming, considering the circumstances. I'm L," greets the door-opener, who is now revealed to be world renowned super sleuth L.

As they behold the famed detective in full view, the Taskforce emit a chorus of gasps and other guttural noises that probably haven't been assigned words in English, ranging from "child who needs inhaler" to "gagged seal." None had expected this to be the great L. On a personal level, the author finds such bold reactions to be impolite, but some people are unsalvageable.

"I'm Chief Officer Soichiro Yagami," Chief Yagami quickly responds after his team's weird outburst. His pulls his badge out of his jacket pocket and flashes it for L to inspect. The rest of the Taskforce follow suit.

After gazing over each man's credentials, L makes gunhands and deadpans, "Bang. All of your brains are smeared across my walls."

The Taskforce does that weird collective gasping thing again. "What are you getting at, L?" asks Chief Yagami.

"Kira needs a face _and_ a name to kill. Since I've seen your faces and you've all freely given up your names, I would have all I needed to end this entire investigation - if I were Kira, that is. Please be more careful in the future," L chides the officers.

"Wait, since when does Kira need a name to kill?" Matsuda interjects.

"Oh, we've known that for a couple weeks now. By analyzing the information available at the time of each inmate's death, we concluded that Kira requires both a legal name and a face to transform a person into a cupcake. You must have been busy with that stack of paint samples we needed you to organize, Matsuda," answers the chief.

"Yes, of course," says Matsuda, dopey smile returning to his face.

"Please sit down," L tells the Taskforce as he walks over to the living room area of his suite. He walks with a zombie-like gait, another unexpected turn of events. The other men follow and take their places on an array of love seats and couches.

"If you would, lay all cellphones and pagers on the coffee table," instructs L.

"What is this fascist tyranny?" says Aizawa with indignation, standing with indignation. " _Put our cellphones on the coffee table?_ While we're at it, would you like us all to sign contracts handing you complete authority over our eternal souls? Should I just go jizz in a coffee mug so you can have a sperm sample, too? Or get that fancy 'L' tattooed on my ass? Japanese God(s?), I know he's the best of the best, but at what cost? At what cost, I ask you!"

"It's alright, Aizawa. I'm sure L is simply taking the precautions he feels are necessary. Also, stop asking if we want you to 'jizz in a coffee mug.' That's the third time this week, and it's starting to seem like an inappropriate fetish. Quite frankly, I will no longer be inviting you into my home," says Chief Yagami.

Aizawa sits back down after the soothing words from his boss, still fuming, but compliant. L continues after all electronics have been deposited onto the coffee table, "As I'm sure you all are aware, twelve agents from the FBI were dispatched to Japan on the 14th of December. Last night, all of them spontaneously transmorphed into cupcakes. As I'm sure you've concluded, this looks to be the work of Kira. What has struck me, is that, starting on December 19th, many of the deaths executed by Kira have been preceded by some sort of ritualistic act on part of the victim, as if he is testing the limits of his powers. As you can probably conclude, between the dates of December 14th and December 19th , Kira discovered the existence of the agents, hence the experiments. He must have needed to make use of some new ability to carry out the murders of December 27th."

The Taskforce once again engage in the collective gasp montage. These new insights from L must be rocking their world.

"One more thing," L adds, "Aizawa, I find cellphones and pagers to be a distraction to intimate discussion. It drives me mad when someone is on their phone instead of paying attention. As you can conclude, this is why I asked you earlier to remove all devices. And please do not masturbate into any of my glassware. We have plenty of tissues available should you feel the urge."

No one acknowledges that last comment. Chief Yagami instead proclaims, "This narrows down our scope incalculably, L. With this lead we can perform a substantial investigation, even with our small number. Aizawa, Ukita, you'll work with me to document everything we can about the 23 inmates murdered by Kira since December 19th. Mogi and Ide, you look into the persons each agent tracked during their time in Japan. And Matsuda..." The chief reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out two plastic polyhedrons. "It is critical, _absolutely critical_ , you are able to arrange these two magic puzzle pieces into the shape of a pyramid. You see? There is only a single solution where they will share a side and form a pyramid. Matsuda, should you fail us, we're all doomed."

"I will die before I fail you, Chief," breathes Matsuda as he stares deeply into his boss's eyes and gently takes the puzzle pieces into his palm.

"L." Chief Yagami turns to the detective, a look upon his face. "Do you think we stand a chance in Japan's Infernal Afterlife of actually beating Kira at his own game?"

L considers silently for awhile, awkwardly rolling a sugar cube beneath his paw. "Kira believes himself to be a savior," he remarks at last, "And that those who stand between him and his twisted ideal are as deserving of their punishment as the criminals they protect. His judgment is infallible not because it satisfies some moral code or because the end will justify the means; it's because he has come to act as God himself. The absoluteness of his control of very life and death absolves him of any contradiction. Justice can never be the domain of a single mind, Chief Yagami. It is an idea for which I am willing to risk my own life, because, in the end, justice _will_ prevail."

The room sits in awe for a long moment. Mogi slowly rises to his feet, and a single clap rings through the air. One by one, the other officers begin to join their comrade as the speed of the applause increases, until the sound becomes a blazing fire against an empty night sky. As Chief Yagami adds his own hand smacks, a pang stirs deep inside him once again, white hot where it once was ice. The chief smiles to himself as he realizes the raging justice boner that beckoned him to the law once in his youth, stood tall once again.

* * *

 **Got it done on time, snitches! Not exactly, but I'm still operating on Gremlin time, so still true. So I had to decide whether to work on this or watch Gossip Girl, and I pretty much chose Gossip Girl. But I managed to get this done anyway. I guess God really does love some people more than others, wink, jk, jk, wink.**

 **Anyway, next week is supposed to be when Light murders Raye Penber's fiancee, but I think I'm gonna postpone that a week and do a Halloween special instead. I don't know what it'll be about - probably Light takes Sayu trick-or-treating, then someone's mean to her and so he kills them. Or maybe not. I guess that's why they call mysteries mysteries.**

 **See y'all in hell!**


	6. Halloween Special, Pt I

**There are only two things certain in life: death and placeholders.  
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 _U r a humen dumster. U shuld go die in a dumster fire, u dum humun dumster. Oll ur famly hates u becuz u smell like a dumster. I am going 2 set u on fire 2nite and I DO NOT even care if u r public propertee. Fuck the publik. They r dum and all failyours. I will throw all the dipers in the world in2 u be4 I set u on fire so u will smell like a dumster + dipers. The dipers will be filled with so much babee poop and pee that they will not catch fire easily so I will suk oll the lard out of ur fatazz to make grease. I will poor it oll over ur filthy dipers so I can burn them. It will b hanus. U r trash._

With a manly flourish Light punches the final key to complete his manifesto. He'd had it up to his gracile neck with the People of the YouTube Comment Section and their unqualified downvotes, so he decided to finally start fighting fire with nukes. No one destroys other people's self-worth quite like Light Yagami.

"quack_zero1111 will use some goddamn sense before he tells Kira to 'go fuck himself' again. Yes, he will use some goddamn sense." Light blasts into a fit of laughter as he relaxes into his heretofore described office chair. "Ryuk, bask in my cleverness."

"Say Light, isn't this hour usually reserved for writing names in the Cupcake Note?" asks Ryuk in lieu of basking.

"You must never conflate the numbers on the clock with Kira's schedule. Kira's schedule is the only measure time. When I begin writing names in the Death Note, you will know it is 4:15 in the afternoon. When I am finished, you will know it is 5:30 in the evening. All else are the mere promises of a false god!" Light loudly intones. "Now," he regains his air of leisurely confidence, "let's try to find one with an actual photo we can match to a Facebook account..."

"Light, sweetums, I'm leaving for my orienteering class! Your Valtrex is on the stair, second to the bottom," a woman Light knows to be his mother calls up the stairs.

"Damn it, Mom, I lost my train of thought!" Light screams back down at her, "Now I have to mentally re-live my entire conversation with Ryuk to remember what it was! Thanks a lot, Mom...Not!" Light crosses his arms to punctuate the last word.

"I love you, too, nutmeg!"

"I said not to call me that anymore! I specifically said! I'm the top of 1200-student class, I will not be - " Light begins before he's interrupted by the muted open and shut of the front door. "...Damn it, Kira's thought train has been again robbed. Well, fuck it all. Ryuk, it is 4:15, and Kira's kangaroo court is back in session."

Light whips out the Cupcake Note from its spot in his center desk drawer, careful not to set-off the rigged explosives. He begins perusing the websites of Tokyo's top newspapers for new convicts to sentence. Each one receives the death penalty. All and all, it is quite a productive afternoon until Light's stomach begins to growl, because he is very hungry. In his haste to deliver justice to the People of the YouTube Comment Section, Light had completely forgotten his after school snack. How silly of him. How very silly.

Announcing that it is officially 5:30 j.m., Light brusquely rises and heads downstairs. Soon as he passes the threshold of the kitchen, his little sister Sayu flounces off the kitchen sofa and directly into his path. Light attempts to laugh off the intrusion, but only one side of his mouth is able to move into a smile. "Hahaha, hey there, lil' sis! Whatcha' doin' there? Horsin' around, makin' some mischief? Hahaha, I enjoy this kind forced interaction! No control over the situation, no problem!" Light says awkwardly as he increases his blinking by 347%.

Light Yagami has an unnaturally low rate of blinks per minute. Whenever he must feign geniality, he's found it helps to consciously increase his blinks.

Sayu smiles, lightly swiveling in place, and says, "Did you forget what today is, LiteBrite?"

Light is indignant at the accusation, but hides his irritation with utmost tact. "Hahaha, not one fucking day in my goddamn life have I ever forgotten the whale-humping date. Ah-haha, you're a silly Japanese goose, lil' sis!"

"So you do remember it's Halloween!" his sister bursts out, bubbling over with smug satisfaction like a short, stout little teapot. Light had not in fact remembered it was Japanese Halloween—he had merely remembered that the day was October 31, Japanese time. "You promised you'd take me Japanese trick-or-treating if I went in and picked up that prescription for you. Remember? You promised we'd go to the gated communities where 'all the richie riches lounge on their thrones of king sized candy bars.'"

Light speeds up his blinking another 200% to keep the rage at bay. "Aw, lil' sis, it's too bad you didn't get that debt in writing," he says, "Sigh, I hope you take this lesson about creating a proper paper trail to heart, lil' sis." Confident in his skills of negotiation, Light sidesteps Sayu with a pat on the head and moves towards the potato chip wardrobe.

"But Liii-iiight, I've never gotten candy bigger than a jumbo Reese's sushi unagi cup. Please, please, please, please, please! I'll buy your next wart treatment kit with my very own allowance!"

There is only so much anger the human body can handle before the blood vessels begin to pop. Light knows he must concede if he wants to keep up the façade; however, if he appears to acquiesce too easily, the enemy may begin to feel it is of equal worth to himself, and Light cannot have that. With a Cheney-esque snarl-smile, Light says, "Oh, lil' sis, I just can't say 'no' to that fat, conceited little face. Go on, go get your costume ready!" As Sayu begins dancing towards her room, he adds, "Hmm, but wait just one second." His sister turns towards him anxiously. "Like I'm always saying, 'Safety first!' And it isn't putting 'Safety first!' to escort a child around a busy street at night, where she can just jump into traffic willy-nilly. You'll need to wear a child leash, lil' sis."

Sayu's face falls. "But I'm eleven," she says.

Light gives his perfectly rounded head a reproachful shake. "It is the only way I would feel responsible taking you out trick-or-treating in these most dangerous of times, lil' sis. Please, try to understand I'm only being a big bro here."

Sayu considers the offer for a long ass minute. "So I either have to either get led on a human leash by my own brother, or not get the oversized candy I was promised?"

"Childhood is a time of tough choices, lil' sis."

Sayu gnaws on the inside of her lip, a childish habit fit for a child. "Will the other people be able to tell I'm on a leash?"

Light nods. "It is composed of reflective material. So that the drivers can see you."

"But I thought I was on a leash so I wouldn't run out into the street!"

Light shuts his eyes for half a minute to digest the exasperation. The child is truly a moron. "Sigh, sigh, sigh," he says to his sister after a string of actual sighs, "Haven't you read the statistics? One in four pedestrian deaths occur while the pedestrian is still on the sidewalk. I swear to the Japanese God(s?), public schools these days are just a bunch of Japanese Satan-worshipping day care centers."

Sayu's face contorts with consternation. After a long hour she finally gives her answer. "I guess we can go like that... But you have to dress up, too!" She instantly brightens. "I'm going as the Japanese red M&M, and _you_ have to be the green one!"

Light's blinking has become so rapid, he now has strobe light vision. "Haha, lil' sis, not ever will I do that! Haha, haha, ha. ha. ha..."

"Psych!" Sayu interjects, "I don't have a green M&M costume anyway. You totally fell for that, sucka'!" She spirals into a fit of raucous, yet girlish, laughter. "But you still gotta dress up. That's the only way I'll go on a child leash."

Light, truly a master of his own bearing, cooly responds, "In that case, lil' sis, I'll pull out one of my classics: the businessman on Casual Friday." The siblings tumble into a fit of laughter and depart toward their separate locations, neither truly satisfied with deal, but tolerating it for appearance's sake.

* * *

 _An hour later..._

* * *

 **Ha, I did it. I got out the Halloween special, as promised. It was getting a little wordy, but there was still sooooooooo much storyline to flesh out, so I decided to make it a two-parter. I don't think it'll expand into a three-parter, def not a four-parter.**

 **So, I totally took another unintended sabbatical. It really isn't my fault, though. See, I was all amped up for the Halloween special, ya know, in a spooky scary mood, about to sit down and write, when I decided to finish up a quest in** _Ocarina of Time_ **. It was gonna be just real quick, but it was that one quest, where, you know, you get the Giant's Sword and you have to play Kiki's Delivery Service (I know you nerds love that anime name drop), but you have a suuuuuuper dumb time limit. So I played, like, I don't know, maybe 20 times, but the eye drops always spoiled before I could get them to Biggeron and his jacked up peepers. It's like,** _What the hell, Hyrule?_ **Your science freaks can create all-purpose healing elixirs, but they haven't figured out elementary preservatives? Whatever. None of it makes any sense. This gigantor potato man is effectively blind, why can't I just steal the frickin' sword? I ransack friendly villagers' houses all the damn time. I'd probably be a much better Hero of Time than Link, because I'm not afraid to fight dirty. Then again, one of his chief boss battle tactics is to go for the eyes, so maybe we're kinda even on that front.**

 **Anyway, after all that I was so PO'd I forgot about the written word for awhile. Like, literally. I made someone read all my assignments to me, then write them while I dictated, and I got really into sports so all my hobbies were non-literate. But _Game of Thrones_ is back on TV, so my life has meaning again, so I'll try really hard to update this thing weekly. Again, my day is Tuesday. We'll see if it happens, but I have such confidence in me, you can call me Maria. **

**Whatever, I don't have a cool sign-off. Later, Snitches.**


	7. A Dream Within Nature

**It's over Anakin, I have the placeholders!**

 **†**

 **†**

 **†**

Light Yagami thumbs through the magazine, blinking brightly with the turn of each glossy page.

"Such amateurish photography," Light chuckles to himself, "And such corpulent arms. They're like pudding overstuffed into plastic tubes."

"Say Light," speaks Ryuk, suddenly appearing by Light's bed, where his master lounges, sinewy limbs folded neatly on top of each other, "You've certainly been spending a lot of time with those books lately."

"This is softcore pornography, not 'books,' Ryuk." Light makes sure to keep his head bowed as he rebukes Ryuk. "You see that ceiling fan attached to the ceiling? Inside, I am sure of it, one of L's minions has hidden a camera to surveil me. If I am exploring porno in view of the camera, L's dumpy ass will never suspect that I know his team is watching me." Light swallows a blast of Laughter.

"Pretty brilliant, Light. But don't think I haven't noticed you've been falling behind on the Cupcake Note lately."

Light grits his lifetime-cavity-free shiny brites in anger. "For the time being, Ryuk, for the time being. Once I get that grocery store brand L out of the picture, Kira will run amok like never before!"

"But Mooo-oooom!"

Light's diamond-cut jaw twitches when he hears a human voice waft up the stairs.

"Mumsly, I can't go _now_! I must practice my dancing for the talent show! My brigade will meet without me! I swear they will!"

Light registers the voice to belong to his sister Sayu, a bowl-cut coiffed girl of twelve, who Light more and more came to find too cunning for his own good.

"Talent shows are corporate nonsense, sweetie," replies the soothing voice of Light's mother, Keinename, "Your father will go hungry if he is not brought his dinner. Respect your elders!"

"Noooooooooooooo!"

In this new drama, Light perceives great opportunity. He meticulously re-shelves the porno mag (his system is as follows: Each title is sorted alphabetically, then sub-assorted within each title by volume and issue number. A fairly standard routine – Dewey Decimal would smile in his grave), rolls down his pant legs, and causally walks down the stairs to the downstairs section of the house. He feigns aloofness as he strolls smack dab into the middle of his mother and sister's argument.

"What about Light!" shouts Sayu. "Make Light do it! Make Light do it, make Light do it, make Light do it," she begins to chant.

"That is enough of that, girl," Keinename says gently, "Light has shown far greater promise in general as a human being than you ever have. Grunt work is for the lesser child."

Light waves a genteel hand. "I'm sure whatever it is, Mother, it's no problem at all!"

"See, I told you Light loves errands! Thanks, Big Bro!" With that, Sayu flounces off the kitchen sofa, kisses Light's wrist, and dashes out the door while shoving several folders into a purse.

"Why, this is just what the 'activists' asked for when they outlawed child beatings," Light's mother says with a sigh. "It seems this task is left to you, Nutmeg."

Our hero internally seethes at the pet name, but business must carry on!

"I was just on my way to the corner store, anyway, Mother," overexplains Light to his mother. "Taking Father his dinner will be no skin off my neck."

Keinename leans down to kiss her son's spindly wrist. "You are such a true gem, hunnykins! What would this world do without you!"

Light swallows a blast of ironic laughter as he internally monologues about his own greatness. Then, he replies to his mother, "Of course, hag. Let me grab my cloak!" And so he does. After that, he retrieves his father's dinner, all swaddled lovingly in tinfoil, and leaves on his journey to police headquarters.

* * *

"You were sure eager to help out," says Ryuk once he and Dwight are a safe distance from the Yagami home.

Dwight chuckles smugly. "This was all too perfect, Ryuk," he says, "I've been handed an excuse to infiltrate the task force on a crystal platter."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

 **Wow, it has been a minute, fans. Tbh, I just got really into calligraphy after Leondra re-gifted me some paper for Christmas, so I didn't really have time for the written word. Obviously, this chapter ends on a cliffhanger that I am eager to resolve, so I'll get to it at some point. Re-learning how to use a word processor has been a bitch-and-a-half, though, so I think some appreciation for me is warranted. L8er, snitches!2!**


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